


There’s a Difference Between Forfeiting and Being Disqualified

by GordandV



Series: There's a Difference [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Illegal skating tricks, M/M, Mentions of homophobia, Podium Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-28 07:27:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10079456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GordandV/pseuds/GordandV
Summary: Forfeiting means you give up. Being disqualified means you tried and did something against the rules.Because at his core (beyond the prickly personality, salt, and teenage hormones), Yuri isn’t all bad. He knows when he needs to stand up for his friends, even at his own expense.





	

**Author's Note:**

> V was going to keep this fic on her laptop for her own personal enjoyment, but Gord threatened to post it herself.
> 
> V claims to know nothing about skating rules or tricks or regulations, although she's found some truly wonderful videos online of people doing ridiculous things on skates.

**There’s a Difference Between Forfeiting and Being Disqualified**

_Forfeiting means you give up. Being disqualified means you tried and did something against the rules._

 

“It’s not _fair_.” Yuri crosses his arms across his chest, unmindful of the pink and red feathers scattered across each wrist that twist and bend and threaten to break from the harsh angle.

Viktor looks slightly less enraged than Yuri feels as he continues to stare at Yuuri’s Free Skate Program score. Yuuri is trying and failing to keep his tears at bay in the Kiss and Cry. Yuuri isn’t one to get upset over scoring, skating a bad program, yes, but the actual numbers, no. But even Yuuri knows that he’s been robbed. He’s just given one of the strongest skates of his career (although nothing compares to his record-breaking Grand Prix Final Free Skate) and is currently in fourth. He won’t medal even if Yuri decides to step onto the ice and do the Chicken Dance. And it isn’t because the other skaters have given the performances of their lives and beat out Yuuri’s score fair and square.

“It’s not fair,” Yuri repeats angrily as he grinds his teeth together and his nails dig into the forearms of his costume in rage.

Yuuri leans against Viktor’s arm to try and hide the tears that are quickly worsening into full-blown sobs. Viktor pulls Yuuri close and whispers something in his ear that makes Yuuri smile momentarily before he’s crying again. Viktor gives Yuuri the Makkachin plush to hold onto before he gets up, rights his coat, and then starts walking.

“What’s he doing?” Yuri demands while cameras lock onto Viktor as he strides directly over to the judging table.

“Challenging Yuuri’s score,” Yakov says in a gruff voice that suggests he’s both proud of Viktor’s decision as a coach and simultaneously dreading the outcome.

“Good!” Yuri spits the word out and sneers at the panel from across the rink.

“Coach Nikiforov seems to be making a formal request to have Skater Katsuki’s score explained,” comes the announcer’s voice. He sounds a bit uneasy.

“Go finish warming up,” Yakov snaps. “You get a few extra minutes because Vitya is trying to salvage the situation.”

“I’m not skating,” Yuri replies gruffly.

Yakov’s eyes land on Yuri and then widen. “Yuri!”

Yuri steels himself for the argument that he knows is going to follow. “I’m not skating,” he repeats firmly. “I’m not going to skate for some… some…” His English is pretty good, but some of the lesser used terminology and slang escape him. “Some bigoted, homophobic rednecks.” That sounds right. “I’m going to forfeit.”

Because at his core (beyond the prickly personality, salt, and teenage hormones), Yuri isn’t all bad. He knows when he needs to stand up for his friends, even at his own expense.

“Forfeit?” Yakov repeats in shock.

Yuri can only guess what his words have done to his coach’s blood pressure. “I’m going to forfeit. In protest of Katsudon’s bullshit score.”

“Yuri-” Yakov begins with a sigh.

“His score is bullshit, and you know it!” Yuri says loud enough to start drawing attention from the other skaters and coaches and press around them. “He only got deducted as much as he did because he and Viktor were sucking face before he skated! You _saw_ the way the judges looked at them!”

Yuri is allowed to be disgusted because Yuuri and Viktor swap spit on a regular basis and Yuri knows them and all the sickly sweet stuff they do on and off the ice. He’s allowed to gag and stick his tongue out because (and he will die with this secret) it’s sort of like watching his brother and brother’s boyfriend getting it on. Gross. Who wants to see that?

The disgust on the judges’ faces had nothing to do with Yuuri laughing against Viktor’s mouth when they had kissed before Yuuri’s skate and more so to do with the fact that it had been two men exchanging such open affection. With matching wedding bands. In public.

“Yuuri’s score isn’t fair,” Yakov says with much more patience than Yuri can give him credit for. “But life isn’t fair.”

“I know that!” Yuri snaps.

“No matter what judges say, there’s always some type of bias.”

“I don’t care,” Yuri says while he turns his back on Yakov. No amount of prize money or fame is worth skating for a homophobic panel. Not while Yuuri is still crying and desperately hugging the Makkachin holder to his chest, looking so small and lost while he sits all alone in the Kiss and Cry and Viktor stands in front of the judging table, face drawn.

Viktor’s face twists into something ugly and angry. He storms away from the judges and Yuri catches a foul Russian swearword that even he rarely ever uses being hissed out. Well, mouthed: there’s no microphone close enough to catch Viktor’s language, but Yuri spends enough time around to Viktor to know when he’s well and truly hurt and going to let loose some “unattractive” words.

“Skater Katsuki’s score will stand,” the announcer says, and the entire arena begins to boo. “After careful deliberation, the judges have determined that his Free Skate score was fair and will remain. Skater Katsuki is currently in fourth place.”

“I will not let you throw this competition away,” Yakov hisses. “Would Yuuri want you to forfeit?”

Yuri snorts. “Of course not!”

He can already imagine the Pig’s words: “you shouldn’t have forfeited on my account! I’ll be alright! It’s only one score, after all.”

“But it matters now,” Yuri whispers to himself.

“You can win and then make some type of inappropriate comment,” Yakov offers gently. “You can win and then go kiss Yuuri or Viktor on the mouth if you feel that strongly about Yuuri’s score.”

“Ew, gross!” Although to be honest, it’s not a bad idea. Yuri wishes that Otabek was here because he’s the only skater that Yuri doesn’t think he’d totally mind smooching just to make a point.

“You’re not forfeiting,” Yakov says. “Forfeiting means you give up.”

And Yuri Plitsetsky never gives up.

“I need ten more minutes to warmup,” Yuri says. “Go tell Viktor to be a drama king or something and stall.”

Yakov narrows his eyes but nods. “I expect you to skate your best.”

“Always,” Yuri says with a shit-eating grin.

Yuri stumbles upon Yuuri in a deserted back hallway. Yuuri isn’t crying, but there’s still tears slowly dripping down his face. Yuri makes a face because Yuuri is a _really_ ugly crier.

“Yuri!” Yuuri says while he fumbles to wipe his eyes with a tissue beneath his glasses. “I was just… the press… I needed to…”

“You skated well,” Yuri says. “Your score was bullshit.”

“Thank you.”

“I was going to forfeit,” Yuri says while he leans his heel against the nearest vertical surface to stretch.

“You were _what_?” Yuuri says in shock.

“In protest,” Yuri replies as he switches legs and then stamps his skate guards against the floor: it’s carpeted. Good. “You score was such shit I didn’t think those judges deserved to see another Grand Prix medalist skate.”

“Y-Yuri! You can’t forfeit just because I didn’t get a fair score!”

“I know.” Yuri looks around. “I’m going to skate.”

Yuuri visibly sighs in relief.

“Can you spot me?” Yuri asks.

“Eh?”

Yuri steps away from Yuuri and heads down the hallway “Just… spot me. If I break my neck, tell Yakov it was because I was upset over your score.”

Yuri spends as much time in skates as he does in sneakers: the only reason why the time he spends in skates doesn’t outrank normal shoes is because he doesn’t sleep in his skates. Yuri’s been in skates ever since he was little and can sprint in them if needed, and he isn’t nearly as ungraceful as Mila or Georgi are when they try. (They’ve had competitions to see who could run the farthest and fastest in skates off ice, and Yuri had won every single time until Yakov had asked them what type of idiots ran around trying to break their ankles. Viktor never managed anything more than an awkward hobble and usually resorted to crawling in order to finish races.)

“Yuri, what are you-”

Yuri jogs forward and then plants his hands on the carpet. His top-of-the-line skates mean they’re lighter than anything you could find at a public rink, but they’re still heavy enough even after years of getting used to the weight. Yuri cartwheels, lands with his feet together in a round off, and then backflips. The momentum and leg placement will be totally different on the ice since Yuri needs to dig one skate into the ice to get himself in the air, but he lands solidly on his feet and upright.

Yuuri is too stunned to speak. Yuri flips his hair away his eye and then offers a smug smile.

“There’s a difference between forfeiting and being disqualified,” he says. “Forfeiting means you give up. Being disqualified means you tried and did something against the rules.”

“Y-Yuri, you… you…”

Yuri makes a dash for the ice when he hears his name being called followed by Yakov’s shouting.

“You can’t!” Yuuri says in a panic.

He lunges for Yuri and misses. He chases after Yuri but isn’t quick enough: Yuri has his skate guards off and is on the ice by the time Yuuri hits the rink wall, panting.

“What’s wrong?” Viktor demands while he puts an arm around Yuuri. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Yuuri just points at Yuri who is already skating a perfect program. “Call the medics.”

“What?” Yakov says while his eyes remain locked on Yuri.

“He’s going to break his neck!” Yuuri says in fright. “Call the medics!”

Yuri’s Free Skate, just like Agape, embodies some type rage. Subtle rage, but rage nonetheless. It’s something that Yakov (and Viktor, and Lilia) have tried (and failed) to convince him to give up when he skates. Yuri resists the urge to offer both middle fingers to the judges when he skates past. He’s skated a first-place worthy program so far, Yuri knows that much, but the gold isn’t worth it.

Yuri is supposed to end his program with both arms out. He usually manages to add an edge of “that’s how it’s done” into the final pose for maximum effect. Instead, he abandons the last few elements in order to circle the rink and gain speed. He’s seen plenty of videos of totally impractical (and totally kickass) skating tricks. The Bonaly remains his personal favorite because it combines skating _and_ gymnastics. Skating is hard enough, but then someone went “still not difficult enough” and added in flips. He hasn’t seen anyone aside from Surya Bonaly herself land the flip on one blade, but Yuri thinks he might be able to manage a perfect split in the air before both skates connect with the ice.

Yuri bends his knees, digs the toe of one skate into the ice, and then jumps. Backflips aren’t necessarily hard, but Yuri still has his skates on and is trying to land on a slick surfaces on narrow metal blades. One leg trails behind the other, Yuri thinks he manages a split (for a few seconds), and then he lands solidly on both blades just as the music begins to end. He raises both hands, middle fingers raised proud, holds his pose for a second, and then offers a mock bow as the stadium explodes.

“Skater Yuri Plitsetsky has just landed a Bonaly!” The announcer sounds like he’s lost his head. “He has, of course, been disqualified for preforming an illegal element in competition. But he’s landed a Bonaly on two feet, perfectly executed, and with a split!”

Yuri stares pointedly at the judges, offers another a middle finger with a smile, and then goes for a victory lap and to pick up a few gifts. He skates to the gate where Yakov, Viktor, and Yuuri are waiting.

“I know, I know: I’m going to get lectured,” he says while he steps off the ice and grabs his skate guards from Yakvo’s hands. “Get on with it.”

“Where did you learn how to do that?” Yakov demands quietly. “I’ve never even seen you attempt that before.”

Yuri snorts and heads for the Kiss and Cry: he may not be eligible for anything due to being disqualified, but he can still get an unofficial score. “Katsudon isn’t the only one who’s got keys to a skating rink when it’s closed.”

“You could have snapped you neck!” Viktor is torn between anger and obvious delight.

“I could have snapped my neck stepping onto the ice,” Yuri retorts.

Yuri smirks when his unofficial score is revealed: world-breaking, but it won’t count for anything. Well, nothing official: he can already imagine the headlines.

“That was amazing!” Yuuri gushes quietly while he grabs Yuri in a hug while the Russian’s hands are occupied with stuffed cats. “But I was so scared! Viktor’s right, you could have seriously hurt yourself!”

“I was careful,” Yuri says. He lets the hug continue for a few seconds before squirming out of it. “I learned to do it without skates first and do it well enough until I could do it in my sleep.”

Yakov goes red. “You’ve been doing gymnastics behind my back?” he seethes

Yuri scowls. “Yeah, and? I can hurt myself skating or doing ballet. What’s another flexible sport that puts stress on m entire body?”

Viktor just nods. “He’s not wrong.”

Yuri’s face smooths into a smile. “Surprise you enough, old man?”

“So much!” Viktor says while he claps his hands together. “It was very well-done. Beautiful.”

“I didn’t land it on one blade though,” Yuri admits. “But I guess that means I have room to improve.”

Yakov goes purple.

Yuuri and Yuri give their respective statements to the media frenzy before Viktor and Yakov take over and usher them away.

“Did you… do the Bonaly for me?” Yuuri whispers while Yakov and Viktor argue merits about skating tricks.

“I mean, not exactly for you,” Yuri says. “I just needed to get disqualified and doing an illegal trick seemed easiest.”

“You could have just skated over and started swearing at the judges,” Yuuri points out with a smile. “Disqualification for unsportsmanlike behavior.”

“Viktor already did that,” Yuri snips. “I needed something to prove that I’m still a better skater than you, even if you did place higher than me.”

“Due to a technicality,” Yuuri says firmly. “But… thank you, Yuri. It means a lot.”

Yuri just grunts. “I’m not _that_ much of an asshole. Everyone knows you were robbed.”

**Author's Note:**

> You will never convince V that Yuri, I'm going to put these jumps into my program despite my coach telling me not to, I'm going to train under one of the best ballerinas in the entire world, and I'm going to break world records, Plisetsky, would not do something as amazing (and dumb) as a Bonaly. On second thought, Yuri should just take up gymnastics.
> 
> (And while V loves the American south, she's seen and heard some truly horrible things.)
> 
> V also ships Yuuri, Yuri, and Friendship.


End file.
